So You Think You Know Better or, Hospice Care
by miashay
Summary: Coda to 5-22, multiple POV. Lisa tries to give Dean what he needs, Dean finally figures out what he wants, Sam entirely misses the point, and Castiel has trouble letting go.
1. Lisa

**So You Think You Know Better**

**(or, Hospice Care)**

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Supernatural, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Coda to 5-22. Lisa Braeden POV.**

**Warnings: Angst, references to suicide. **

**Chapter 1: Lisa**

Sam was standing in the street outside her house. It was the fourth night in a row. She tried to tell Dean, but he didn't believe her.

* * *

She asked Ben if he thought Dean was happy.

"He's dying Mom," her son replied, "what do you think?"

* * *

A man called her house, asking after Dean. He didn't want to talk to him directly.

"Bad memories," he said. "I don't want to remind him."

She scoffed into the receiver.

"Do you think he could forget?"

* * *

She made sleepover plans for Ben that Friday. Dean took him in the Impala. When he got back, they sat on the living room couch together. She had scotch and beer on standby.

"Spill," she said, and he did.

Everything.

Her walls are still filthy with it.

* * *

She heard the beating of wings outside her kitchen window the next morning. There wasn't a bird in sight.

"Damn coward," she mumbled in their general direction.

* * *

Dean saw him two weeks later. He took it surprisingly well.

"Guess this means its over," he said.

She told him about the wing beats.

"I think they want you to be happy," she said.

Dean grinned.

"Imagine that."

* * *

Later that week, she found Dean arguing with a stranger in the living room. The stranger had a British accent, and was wearing a cravat.

"You're a stubborn bastard, Winchester," the man was saying.

Dean shook his head. He replied:

"It's time I stop living for other people."

She gave him a small, encouraging smile, and headed to the kitchen to grab a beer.

* * *

"He thinks you don't want him."

She was talking to herself on the porch again. Ben and Dean were asleep inside the house.

"You don't make your move soon, it'll be too late."

No one answered back.

* * *

The British man came back two days later. She was home alone. He laid a gun on her kitchen table. He said it was for Dean.

"I never did like Dean Winchester," he said.

She laughed.

"Liar."

"They really don't understand?" she asked.

"They will, luv. They will," he said.

* * *

That night she made burgers and fries for dinner. Ben helped make homemade milkshakes. He said he thought they'd make Dean smile.

"You shouldn't have," Dean said, and pressed a kiss to the side of her son's head.

"But I'm glad you did. I'm real glad."

He was smiling.

* * *

He ate his dinner quietly. Then he held them both tight, and climbed into the Impala. The gun from her kitchen table was tucked in the back of his pants.

"Ask me again, Mom," Ben said.

"Do you think Dean's happy?" she asked.

Ben looked up at her with a watery smile.

"I think he will be."

* * *

"It's too late now," she said. She was sitting on her back porch. Ben had already put himself to bed.

Three men littered her lawn; the British man, a blue-eyed man in a suit and trench, and Sam Winchester.

"It's too late now," she said again.

The blue-eyed man and Sam looked stricken. The British man met her eyes with a knowing glance.

"You were supposed to make him happy," Sam said.

Lisa laughed. The British man joined her.

"Don't worry."

She stood up and opened the back door.

"He's happy now."

She walked into the kitchen, gestured for the British man to follow. He did.

Once inside, she turned off the porch light.

She left Dean's brother and his angel alone on her lawn, in the dark.

_Okay, so it's a little depressing. I just can't imagine Dean being happy with Lisa and Ben- it's just not who he is. And I can totally see a resurrected Sam and nosey, yet protective, Castiel keeping tabs on him, yet somehow remaining completely ignorant of how unhappy he is. (This is precisely why I normally don't speculate over the summer hiatus.) _

_As for my Dark Angel fic "Walking Wounded", for those of you who are curious, I'm almost finished with the next chapter, and should have it posted within the next couple days._

_Thanks for reading- now review, review, review!_


	2. Dean

So You Think You Know Better

**(Or Hospice Care)**

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Supernatural, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Continued coda to 5-22. Dean POV.**

**Warnings: Angst, references to suicide **

_AN: As stated above, this story has (completely non-graphic) references to suicide, which are far less ambiguous than they were in the previous chapter. I'm a little nervous about this, and feel the need to assure readers that I am in no way condoning this action. I have some thoughts about character motivations and whatnot, and am more than happy to share them, if you're curious. _

**Chapter 2: Dean**

Ben didn't ask what happened to Sam. He just cocked his head and said, "So, you're alone now."

Dean ruffled a hand through the kid's hair, and nodded.

* * *

"He's dead. Or, might as well be," he told Lisa, a week later.

He asked why she wanted to know.

"I don't want to upset you," she said, "but I think I've seen him. Watching you."

"Watching me?" he asked.

"Just there," she said, pointing out the window. "From across the street."

He kept his eyes trained ahead, and fought the urge to check.

"Sam's gone," he said, and went up to bed.

* * *

That night, he woke up gasping, his pillow wet with tears. Lisa was beside him, running a cool cloth over his face and neck.

She whispered promises that _no, Dean, shh, this isn't hell, this isn't hell_.

* * *

She asked him to talk, so he did. Spilt out all of his secrets, like red wine on a white carpet.

"Better?" she asked, when he was done. She looked nauseous.

He didn't answer. He couldn't tell her he felt nothing. Only guilt at the stains his confession had left behind.

* * *

The weeks stretched out like dog years, like hell years. His promise to Sam was like a burden around his neck.

He waited for the worm to turn.

* * *

He applied for a job at a local garage. The owner sat him down, to discuss his skills and credentials. He told him about rebuilding the Impala, and working on Bobby's junkers. It went well.

Then, the owner asked, "You have family in the area, son?"

"My family's dead," he replied, and left.

He stopped looking for work after that.

* * *

Six weeks into his stay, he saw Sam.

* * *

He told Lisa, and she told him about Cas.

She looked bemused, and tried grasping for a reasonable explanation. Dean didn't need one.

He knew what they were doing, and why. He just wished someone had thought to ask him what he wanted. Of course, it was only now, that he knew.

* * *

He waited three days to call Crowley. The demon appeared in Lisa's entryway, soon after. Dean led him to the living room, but didn't speak.

Crowley asked what he wanted.

"I want the Colt," he said.

"What for?" Crowley asked. He sounded surprised.

"I can't go back to hell, and I didn't much like heaven, either," he explained. "This way, everyone gets what they want."

Crowley bitched and argued, but eventually agreed.

* * *

That night, Dean slept soundly, for the first time in months. It was a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

The Colt felt at home in his palm. Its warm weight grounded him, and the last of his doubts fell away.

He washed his sheets, and emptied his things from Lisa's guest room. He took Chuck's books out of the Impala, and gave them to Ben.

They had diner food for dinner, shakes, burgers and fries. He said his goodbyes after, and drove away from them. He expected some pang of regret, some leftover longing for the life he was leaving behind.

Those feelings never came, and he kept driving.

* * *

He drove out to an abandoned field, where Crowley would know to find him. He got out of the Impala, and gave her one last glance.

He walked about fifty yards out, took in one last breath.

The Colt felt at home in his palm, and he was happy.

_I should note that, in my canon, the Colt does to vessels what it does to demons, and destroys them completely. Dean here wanted to avoid both heaven and hell, so made sure to use a weapon that wouldn't leave his soul behind. I know, it's incredibly depressing. I'm considering doing Sam POV and Cas POV, for a little more perspective. Please review if you have a moment, and let me know what you think. Thank you! _


	3. Sam

**So You Think You Know Better**

**(Or Hospice Care)**

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Supernatural, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Continued coda to 5-22. Sam POV.**

**Warnings: Angst, references to suicide.  
**

**Chapter 3: Sam**

Sam was Sam, until he wasn't.

He was power and vengeance, desperation and disappointment.

He was the thought that vaporized Castiel, and snapped Bobby's neck.

He was the fist that beat Dean's face into a mass of blood, broken bones and swollen flesh.

He was eons of anger, arrogance, jealousy and hate.

But, Sam wasn't Sam, not anymore.

* * *

Then Dean promised not to leave him, and he had something Lucifer didn't.

He had devotion and forgiveness. He had loyalty and love.

Sam had Dean, and a lifetime of memories to remind him.

Then, Sam was Sam again.

* * *

He remembered falling, but not landing. He's not sure that he did.

He remembered the cemetery in Lawrence, then standing in the street outside Lisa's house. The time between is empty.

It's like, for a short time, he had simply stopped being. Then, in the street outside of Lisa's house, he'd started up again.

Simple as that.

* * *

Dean was eating at a table with Lisa and Ben. Sam watched.

He saw the blank expression on his brother's face, the tumbler of dark liquor at his elbow.

He watched, and willed his thoughts to Dean. Thought, _this is what you wanted, now be happy. Be happy. _

Dean pushed his food around on his plate and sipped his drink. Sam kept watching.

* * *

Castiel found him, later that night. He asked how long it'd been.

"Almost two weeks, now," Castiel answered.

"Is he ever happy?" he asked.

"No," Castiel replied.

He fought the urge to rush forward and kick down Lisa's door, to gather up his brother and drive them both away from here.

He wanted Dean to have this. Dean deserved this. He just needed more time.

Sam nodded to himself, and turned away from Lisa's house.

"He will be," he said. "He'll be happy with them."

* * *

He watched Lisa's house every night. He soon realized, she was watching him right back.

He kept coming. He couldn't stop.

He needed to see it. The minute Dean got better. The minute Dean was happy again.

* * *

Castiel sent him on hunts. Bobby did sometimes, too. He picked up side jobs painting houses, and hustled pool.

Mostly, he watched Dean.

* * *

Weeks passed, and Dean wasn't getting better.

He had daydreams of knocking on Lisa's door. He imagined what Dean would say, or do.

They'd hug, of course. A good hug, like the one Dean had given him after coming back from hell. Better.

He'd press a kiss into his brother's hair, like he'd seen harried mothers do, after losing a child in the mall, or grocery store.

He'd murmur in Dean's ear, "I missed you. I'm sorry. Will you be happy, now?"

* * *

He didn't knock on Lisa's door.

Every time he came close, he'd remember that graveyard in Lawrence. All of those memories of love and family were drenched in pain and death.

Dean would never be safe with Sam. He would never have a home, or a family.

He would be hunted. He'd take stupid risks to keep Sam safe. It's what Dean did.

So, Sam watched, but he didn't knock.

* * *

"Crowley was here today," Castiel told him.

"Why?" he asked.

Castiel looked troubled, but didn't reply.

Sam started to get a very bad feeling.

* * *

That night, he heard Lisa talking from the back porch. She was alone.

"He thinks you don't want him," she said, "You don't make your move soon, it'll be too late."

Sam dug his nails into his palms as she spoke. He stayed quiet and still, but his mind was screaming, _Get in there! Tell him you want him! What are you waiting for?_

Lisa just sat on the porch, while he bit his tongue, and seethed.

* * *

Two days later, Crowley came back. Sam's bad feeling got worse.

* * *

It was evening by the time Castiel tracked the demon down. They asked him what Dean had wanted.

"The Colt," Crowley said.

"What for?" Sam asked.

"Oblivion," Crowley replied.

* * *

By the time they got to Lisa's, Dean was already gone.

_Okay, so I admit, I'm getting cold feet. When this thing was a one shot, I was perfectly happy with Dean dying at the end. Even with Dean's POV, I was still happy. But now, Sam is giving me second thoughts. _

_I'm honestly curious what you guys think. I've already decided to do Castiel POV next, and the story could really go either way. I just really have no idea how I want it to end anymore. Please let me know if you have any suggestions. As always, all reviews are welcome. And thank you for reading!_


	4. Castiel

**So You Think You Know Better**

**(Or Hospice Care)**

**Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Supernatural, or any of the characters you find here.**

**Spoilers: Continued coda to 5-22. Castiel POV.**

**Warnings: Angst, references to suicide. **

_A quick thank you to my beta icelily, who helped me get over my plot issues. _

_Thank you for reading, and to those who've reviewed. I appreciate all your ideas and support! _

**Chapter 4: Castiel**

He faced the wrath of Lucifer. He did it to protect Dean, and because it was the right thing to do.

He acted out of loyalty, and died for it. He never expected to be rewarded.

Then, his grace was renewed, and he was one with the host. Again. It was quite the surprise.

* * *

Heaven wasn't the same as he remembered it.

The Heaven of his memories was boundless, a wide expanse of light and love.

It was the home of his Father, his brothers and sisters. It was his home, as well. Had been for all the years of his existence. All but one.

He took in its entirety, its majestic glory and awe.

He wondered why Heaven now seemed so small.

* * *

He checked in on Amelia and Claire Novak. They were both coping well. Amelia was moving on, and Claire was quiet and content.

She prayed to him, sometimes. He liked that.

He also checked in on Bobby Singer. He was hunting again. That, and grieving. He grieved a lot.

* * *

One of his brothers asked why he still watched them.

"I care about them," he replied.

"More than the rest?" his brother asked.

"Yes," he said. He felt no shame in it.

"More than Dean Winchester?"

He didn't respond to that. He didn't need to.

* * *

Dean was miserable. Castiel knew that.

But Heaven needed him, and Dean deserved a life free from the meddling of angels.

Better late than never.

* * *

Then, Sam Winchester was alive, and back on earth.

No one knew where he'd been. There were whispers of his Father, but nothing more. Just that Sam had been freed of Lucifer's taint, and deposited outside Lisa Braeden's house.

* * *

Castiel had won the favor of God. He'd been promoted, and had a role to fill.

But the heavenly order would take centuries to solve. The Winchester's problems were far more immediate.

* * *

Sam wouldn't talk to Dean. He said it was better this way.

"This way, Dean can have a life," he said.

"He won't," Castiel replied, "not without you, Sam."

"He will," Sam said, and that was that.

* * *

He knew it was a mistake, but Sam was stubborn, unmoving.

He remembered his vow to stop interfering with Dean's life.

He knew it was a mistake. He prayed it wouldn't be a big one.

* * *

They took turns watching over him. They waited for the day Dean's grieving would end.

He went to Heaven when called, and found easy, local hunts for Sam.

He could tell Sam was close to breaking, and Castiel willed him along. The sooner he collected his brother, the better.

Dean's misery was near palpable. He wouldn't be getting better.

* * *

"I saw Lisa today," Sam told him. They'd been watching Dean together for two weeks.

"She saw me."

"And Dean?"

Sam's shoulders stiffened.

"I don't think so."

"If you stay here, Sam, one day, he will," he said.

"I'll be more careful," Sam replied.

* * *

A month later, Crowley came to Lisa's house.

His presence had left a dark film in the air. Castiel sensed it at once.

He told Sam that night. Together, they tried to guess what the demon had wanted. They came up with nothing.

* * *

Crowley came back, and Castiel went on the hunt.

Finding the demon was easier than it should have been.

"What do want with Dean Winchester?" he asked.

Sam was shaking beside him. He looked furious and scared.

"What do you?" Crowley replied. "He's all but checked out now. Certainly you can see that?"

And Castiel understood. Sam asked the question, but the answer was clear.

Dean was finished. He had finally had enough.

* * *

Lisa was angry. She laughed at them. She left them standing in her lawn.

Castiel took out the slip of paper Crowley had palmed him. It was a location, a field several hours away.

He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, and they were gone.

* * *

When they got to the field, Dean already had the Colt in his mouth.

His face was upturned. It was visible from where they stood. He looked peaceful. Happy.

That didn't stop Sam from calling out to him, or Castiel from flying to his side.

* * *

Dean didn't seem surprised. Curious and bemused, but not surprised.

The Colt dangled from his hand like a threat. A promise.

Sam noticed it, too.

* * *

"You're really here?" Dean asked.

"Yes, Dean," Sam replied.

"And Lucifer?"

"Gone. It's just me."

Dean turned to Castiel for confirmation.

"It's Sam," he said.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"You've been watching me. Both of you."

They nodded in unison. Sam started to speak, but Dean cut him off.

"Why?" he asked.

"We were worried," Sam said.

"But why just watch?"

When no one replied, Dean scoffed, and rolled his eyes.

"After everything, you really oughta know better," he said.

Then he smiled, and handed Sam the Colt.

* * *

Things were different, and the same.

The host was slow to change, but began to accept his direction.

Heaven started to feel like home again.

He kept watch over the Novaks, and Bobby.

The demon Crowley had formed a friendship with Lisa Braeden.

Castiel watched over the Braeden's now, too.

Mostly, he watched Sam and Dean.

* * *

There were still shadows in both of their eyes.

Sometimes, when Sam left him alone, Dean would sit with the Colt in his hands, weighing.

It was always tucked away again, by the time Sam returned.

_So that's that. I tried to kill him, I did. I just couldn't get it to work. I'm happy with this ending, though. As always, let me know what you think! _


End file.
